It’s a morning’s tentativeness, keeping her here
under the whisker-soft fingertips of the sun
while time’s lullabies keep whispering on
and smiling lilies lay silently near
It’s a fresh breath of sunshine and a startling moan
and the new-present smell of tired nerves,
lingering into a day to learn
of the jingling duties that have become her own
It’s the quiet experience of being lost in a world
full of difference and strangers and the furrowed brow
of a peculiar girl who understood now
that her story was just beginning to unfurl
It’s the mountains of memories weighing on her mind
daily pushing her heart to openly speak,
describing romantic languages and white-capped peaks
of a land that produced far too many of her kind
It’s the always-there home, born of leaping joy
Nervous-hearted girl, you are made for more
